When you Left
by TheOtakuNeko
Summary: Features ghost!Haruka and a child!Makoto. They find each other, make promises and Makoto grows up. The promises get broken, then mended again, until they form something neither of them can ever break.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: Unbeta'd**

* * *

When Makoto was six, he met Haruka for the first time.

His family moved from the hustle-bustle of the city to the sleepy coastal town of Iwatobi. Due to his father's job was the explanation he was given, when he told his mother that he didn't want to leave his friends from school. And that he could go to the beach every day, his mother added. Makoto didn't care for the beach that much, except from the promise of ice cream that was there every time he visited the beach. Maybe if he was more stubborn, his parents wouldn't have moved and Dad would have found a job nearer to home. But, Makoto wanted to be a good kid and not make a fuss, so Tachibanas settled in an old, but 'family-sized', house near the shrine and Makoto went to Iwatobi Elementary School.

Makoto soon grew to like the Iwatobi lifestyle. School wasn't bad, he made a few friends but wasn't particularly close to anyone. His room was bigger than it was in the city, there was enough room for all his toys. He didn't have ice cream every day, but he could go biking every week with his father and that more than made up for it, especially since he didn't see his father much when he still had his job in the city.

It was before bed, but after his mother had told him his bedtime story, when Makoto caught sight of a figure from the corner of his eye. _It was probably nothing_, he thought wishfully, as he flicked his face around to get a better glance at what he thought he saw. It shimmered, much like the sea instead of glitter or sequins, _probably a trick of the light_, but he wasn't too sure if the light was supposed to do that.

He blinked good few times, then looked at it again, frozen in place where he last saw it and showing no signs of moving. _It will go away in the morning_, he hoped, as these things usually did with sunrise, that's what they say, anyway. He didn't want to be a bad boy and wake up mum and dad over what was probably nothing, so he sunk under his covers and prayed for a good night's sleep.

It did go in the morning, or at least Makoto saw no traces left behind, but maybe that's because he was looking for the wrong clues. He still began to doubt it was there in the first place, it had no good reason to be. So, it was probably just a dream, but not really a nightmare. He probably didn't need to tell his mother, he probably won't need to wet the bed the next night.

But after another night pasted by, he did wet the bed and embarrassedly took the stained sheets to the washing machine next morning. It returned, standing its corner of Makoto's room, near the same place as last night. It shimmered in the moonlight, but casted no shadow on the ground as the light shone right through it and lit up the wooden boards it stood on. Makoto repeated the events of yesterday night and spent another night quivering under his covers with the vague hope of it going away.

It didn't go away the next day or the next week, nor it do anything but stand in its corner and disappear at the first light of dawn the next morning (not that Makoto checked exactly when it disappeared, but he assumed it would). The shimmer was always there on the edge of his vision before he went to sleep, it was now almost soothing. Makoto considered telling his mother about it, surely it's been there long enough for it to be real and not something that his imagination created? But he had only seen it from a distance, could he really be sure that it was no more than a trick of the light?

With apprehension, Makoto slowly drew the duvet off him and put a foot on the wooden floorboards. He considered going back and returning to the safety and warmth of his bed, but with the slight chill of the sea breeze and the trembling of his own nerves, Makoto slowly paced towards its corner. The closer he got, the more of what was hidden by distance he saw. It was the colour of pool water, had a face, outlines of what seemed to be normal clothing. Not exactly what Makoto expected. It was more of a 'he', a boy older and taller than him, quite ordinary-looking besides the shimmering, translucent, bluish surface. There was no way a boy like the one in front of him could possibly be. Real people weren't blue, real people weren't see-through, real people didn't magical appear in your room and stare hard enough to bore holes into your forehead. Those eyes never left Makoto, or so it would seem; even though he was less than half a metre away - almost there - from his eyes the intensity of his stare made Makoto want to run to the other corner of the room and stay there until his mother found him next morning.

As Makoto was considering his escape, he moved. He outstretched his hand towards Makoto, his eyes still said nothing of his intentions, so Makoto could only blindly trust the strange boy. With a furrow of his upturned eyebrows, Makoto tentatively took a step to him; he didn't want to touch the boy just yet, but there couldn't be any harm in getting a little closer to him. Makoto was now a few inches away from him, but still neither of them had said a work. The boy's arm was back by his side, his stare was slightly less intense, closer to inquisitive and Makoto's eyes were probably the same. It was more awkward than an social event he had ever encountered in his six-year-old life, so the urge to say something was pretty fierce and pressurising.

"What's your name?" Makoto weakly whispered. He doubted anyone could actually hear his voice, but apparently someone did as the other boy blinked at him and continued to stare with tilted eyebrows and his mouth slightly agape with surprise.

The boy blinked again and look around, as if he was expecting someone behind him to answer. When he was convinced that Makoto was talking to him, he relaxed his shoulders and faced Makoto once again. "Haru. What's yours?" his voice was clear and cut through the air like a diamond.

Makoto wasn't too sure whether he was expecting an answer, much less another question, from 'Haru'. That couldn't have been his full name, he must have had a family name since he must have had a family or somewhere to go to at least. Maybe he was over-thinking it, Haru probably just didn't want to tell him, or he would rather Makoto just called him 'Haru'.

"It's Makoto, Haru-chan," Makoto replied, he voice a lot less shakier and quieter than before. He wasn't too sure why he added the '-chan' to Haru's name, it kind of completed it in a way. Makoto probably should have used '-kun' instead, but Haru-chan flowed nicer and it made the other seem a little less intimidating. But, just to be sure it didn't annoy Haru, he asked more timidly, "Is it okay if I call you that, Haru-chan?"

"I don't mind," Haru responded with a half-shrug, and his casual attitude reminded Makoto of boys around Haru's age. It made him seem really normal, and maybe that's what Haru was, despite his appearance. He wasn't a scary creature of the dark, just boy a little older than him, like the ones you see in the playround at school, or parties hosted by your mother's friends. But at the same time, Haru wasn't a normal boy, far from one. He certainly didn't look normal, or act normal. He wouldn't be in Makoto's room every night if his was normal, so he couldn't be completely normal.

"Haru-chan, what are you? Why are you blue like pool water?" Makoto asked, the questions sounded a bit rude as Makoto played them back in his head, but hopefully Haru would not be offended or forgive him if he was. Haru really took his time answering, his eyes travelled all around the room. But Makoto's ceiling didn't seem to tell him anything, so he held out his hand and looked at his skin. Makoto thought that maybe even Haru wasn't sure why himself, and that wasn't so weird that he didn't. After all, if Haru asked Makoto why he wasn't blue, Makoto probably couldn't give him a straight answer either. "You don't have to answer if you don't know." Makoto added after the afterthought.

"Then, I don't know," Haru said, he sounded relieved that Makoto wasn't really looking for an answer. "I wasn't always blue, if you were wondering that." And Makoto was wondering exactly that. Haru might have been a mind reader and Makoto was willing to believe that, if it wasn't for the fact Haru had to ask for his name earlier on. So, perhaps Haru was really smart, or maybe Makoto was too obvious.

"So, what were you like before you were blue?"

"A bit like you, in a way. My hair was black, my eyes were still blue, but a darker blue. My skin was kind of cream and my clothes were... Not all the same colour." Haru replied with a shrug, he seemed to have forgotten what colour his clothes were. But, it kind of made sense to forget, if Makoto can't remember which pyjamas he was wearing, and his mother had dressed him this afternoon, how would Haru, who had probably worn the same clothes for ages to know?

"Haru-chan, is it okay if I touch you?" Makoto innocently asked, edging slightly over to his new friend. His palm opened up and his fingers outstretched towards Haru.

Haru almost frowned as he thought it through. "I guess it's alright if it's Makoto," he replied, letting the curious child roam his little fingers over Haru's pale blue skin. They felt warm, almost sweaty, against the coolness Haru was accustomed to, but that's what Haru liked about the gentle warm of his friend's hand. Makoto let out a surprised grasp as half of his hand sunk past the surface of Haru's arm, as he was exploring the smooth, cool plains of strange-coloured skin. He quickly yanked his hand back and watched as the blue surface refilled itself once more, the hole that his hand made no longer existed. The void had been filled to its original form.

But, as glad Makoto was with his friend's amazing healing abilities, he still asked, "Is Haru-chan okay? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to, I promise! I'm sorry, Haru-chan!" Makoto continued to apologise, until he felt a cool touch on his shoulder.

"I'm fine. You didn't hurt me, that doesn't hurt. Makoto doesn't need to apologise," Haru smiled down towards the smaller boy. The hues of green that made up Makoto's eyes glistened brightly in the moonlight, as he looked up towards the older boy with a sense of relieve and the warmth of acceptance the two of them shared between them.

Makoto decided he liked this new friend, and Haru felt a mutual feeling, as they stood together, basking in the glow of the moon.

* * *

Makoto must have returned to bed at some point, because that's where he was when he woke up the next morning, tucked up in bed as if none of last night had ever happened. However, Makoto knew better, it must have happened, as it felt to real to be false. He was so sure of it, even though Haru was nowhere to be seen, like mornings before he knew Haru and before they were friends. This was like when Haru wasn't a 'he', but an 'it', and that 'it' always disappeared in the morning, so it would make sense for Haru to disappear the same as every other morning, even though Makoto didn't want him to.

"Haru-chan? Haru-chan, are you there?" Makoto called out, although he knew Haru couldn't possibly be around. Haru only came out at night, after all. There was little either of them could do about it.

A bare silence - Makoto sighed and got out of bed. He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out an ironed t-shirt. He looked around the now very lonely space of his room, longing for the strange blueness of chlorinated water and his new friend.

"Makoto," he heard a soft mutter. Makoto's head swivelled around to find the source of the sound. "I'm here, Makoto," Haru was calling for him, but Makoto had no idea where he was. Small footsteps made their way around the room, as the wooden floorboard creaked too noisy for the early morning. Makoto's eyes surveyed the room an unsatisfying many times, before he caught sight of the shimmering blue surface behind the cabinet.

And Makoto smiled, he had found his friend, although he didn't know why Haru needed to hide behind the cabinet just yet.

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**I'm writing MakoHaru even though I don't ship it. What is wrong with me. The characters worked for the type of story I wanted to write, so yeah. I doubt all of the chapters would be the length of this one. I hope they would, this is a decent chapter length, right?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: Hints of child neglect, unbeta'd**

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"Haru-chan, what are you doing behind the cabinet?" Makoto smiled, very tempted to laugh, but too polite and not wanting to upset or offend Haru to actually laugh. It was a very strange sight to see, his new friend with his knees up to his chest, hiding behind the shadow of the cabinet. Haru lifted his head up from his crouching position, his lips formed an almost pout when he saw the look of amusement on Makoto's face. Ignoring it, Haru let his arms unravel by his side and lifted himself off the wooden floorboards, and stepped into the light. Not a single creak was heard when the otherworldly-looking boy did this, just a sudden hiss as the chlorinated-water blue of his body disappeared with puffs of stream. Haru's face retained its stoic expression as the boy's whole body slowly vanished in the harsh light of day.

Makoto's mouth, however, was agape with incredulity, the innocent hues of green shined in shock of what he had just witnessed. "H-haru-chan..." There was a soft tremor in his voice, as his head spun around, searching for any remaining fragments of his dear friend. "Where did you go, Haru-chan?" It felt like the older boy had just left him, but that couldn't be right. You wouldn't leave a friend you just met, that was quite silly, Makoto convinced himself. What reason could Haru have to possibly leave? The supernatural boy was welcome to stay for as long as he pleased, and Makoto wanted him here, but maybe that wasn't clear to Haru, even after last night.

"Haru-chan, don't go. Stay here, Haru-chan. I don't want you to leave," Makoto softly whispered into thin air. He soon realised how desperate and selfish he sounded, with a complete disregard to any problems Haru might have had. But hopefully, his words would have made his friend stay. It was a very selfish thing to want - he felt like a bad boy for wanting it - but, it was hardly fair, when Makoto had just got to know this wonderful new companion. He sighed a little at the vacancy that hung around the room, eyes wandering all over for a sign of Haru. Makoto didn't find any traces of the boy, just like the mornings before, but an idea did form in his mind as he caught sight of the curtains, draped either side of the large east-facing window.

Haru always left by the first light of dawn and Makoto's curtains were always left open (as he was scared of who knows what was lurking behind his window, forming such an ominous shadow against the material), so if Makoto could turn this room back to how it was during night time, Haru would return to him. It was only a hunch, but a pretty logical one in Makoto's mind, and there was no real harm in trying, so he did. The floorboards made their usual noise, as Makoto made his way towards the golden light of the October morning. Squinting slightly because of the brightness of the sun's rays, Makoto tiptoed up to the windowsill. Tiny hands reached out to grasp the coarse fabric of the curtain and pulled it over, so that it covered the window halfway. Makoto repeated this with the other, so that his room was now encased by the very darkness that he feared and disliked, but if it was Haru need to materialise, Makoto debated that the darkness wasn't so bad.

And Haru sure did return, with the strange bluish tinge and the same lack of shadow that he possessed the nights before. But now, a warm expression played upon his face, it illuminated it in ways the blue glow didn't. Makoto couldn't help but to fling his arms and himself onto Haru after the boy had finished materialising. He was slightly worried that his body would slice through Haru's like a knife through butter, but Haru retained his form as the smaller boy wrapped his arms around him in an embrace that would have been suffocating, only Haru didn't have to breathe. Haru smiled and returned the hug, his own blue arms surrounding Makoto's body. The sensation of the cool arms comforted Makoto in ways he never associated with cool things. He was used to the warmth of a fire or the warmth of his mother, both of which soothed him greatly, but that felt completely different from what he was now feeling. Haru's arms forced goosebumps to appear on his arms and back, his touch chilled him to the bone, but despite that, Makoto continued to bury his head further into the chest of the older boy. This level of security and comfort was something he felt with Haru alone, and Makoto never wanted this to end.

* * *

When Makoto was thirteen, he found out something important about Haruka.

A long, but happy seven years passed after the unlikely duo of friends first met each other. Makoto had grown taller, enough to overshadow Haruka by more than two inches. The now shorter boy had remained the same throughout the years. His skin glowed the same colour of blue, like the chlorinated water of a swimming pool, as when Makoto first met him. His cool, detached attitude also remained intact, however over the years of familiarity, Haruka had opened up more and more of his secrets to Makoto, who he trusted more than anyone he knew. These were small details, such as his full name (Haruka Nanase) and the fact that he loved to swim (to which Makoto responded by dragging up an inflatable pool and filling up with water for Haruka to swim in. His mother responded to her son's strange behaviour and the water on the floor with a scolding, but Makoto thought it was well-worth it for Haruka's smile), but Makoto liked it when Haruka told him about something like that, so Haruka shared as much as he could, when he thought he was ready.

It was on a chilly day of mid-February when Haruka deemed himself comfortable enough to tell Makoto about the very thing that had reduced him to what he was now. The taller boy was currently at school, halfway through his middle-school career, when Haruka was contemplating how he was to shared this particular event of his life, or even if he should in the first place. It wasn't like Makoto didn't know what Haruka was, they had discussed Haruka's status as a ghost in one brief conversation, and Makoto even remarked he had a hunch on what Haruka was long before the conversation even took place. Makoto was fully aware that his friend was a supernatural being, that shouldn't exist but existed all the same because of the misfortunate events that had greeted Haruka and kill him prematurely. However, Haruka had confirm that he was seeking no revenge for what had happened to him, saying that there was very little point, and Makoto said that he was very kind for saying such a thing.

But, that was all that Makoto had known of regarding the death of his friend. There was a ridiculous hell of a lot more that was to be known, Haruka was just debating whether to tell his friend. Would it sadden someone as kind and empathic as Makoto? Most certainly. Would it look like Haruka was just hungered for attention? Well, in a way, he already was, but neither Makoto saw it that way nor was it a part of Haruka's intentions. His friend just wanted to understand him better, and Makoto was probably curious, too. Just because he was kind enough and knew better than to dig up Haruka's past, it certainly didn't mean he wasn't interested or didn't care for it.

It was all awfully morbid, knowing how your friend died, that very companion that you spend every afternoon and night with, to know exactly how life escaped their body, how their body became a corpse. Makoto wouldn't care for such dark things, how grim and unpleasant they were, the things that made Haruka who he was today. They weren't for an innocent soul like Makoto's to hear and to know of. Such thoughts suddenly made Haruka feel strange, if he was the result of the macabre events that were so unworthy of Makoto's hearing, was Haruka worthy of Makoto's company? After all, Haruka did indirectly spring himself onto Makoto's life and not the other way around, despite all the nice words Makoto says about him, the two of them really weren't supposed to be together in the first place.

But if Haruka was unworthy of Makoto, he had less than an inkling to who was. Makoto was a very special human, and although Haruka didn't know many kind people at all, he could say that without a doubt, Makoto was the kindest. The angel that Makoto unknowingly was made him unworthy of the many that surround him on a daily basis. With that thought in mind, Haruka decided to tell Makoto what had caused his demise, and let the taller boy be the judge of it. Not that he would, Makoto was far too soft-hearted to say anything against it.

* * *

"Haru-chan, I'm home," Makoto called out, even though he had long past the entrance to his house and now entering the realm of his bedroom. But he couldn't exactly greet Haruka at the doorway without wary glances from his mother and a stream of question bursting out of his siblings' mouths. So it was a long standing tradition that Makoto would say his _tadaima_ and Haruka would respond with his _okaeri_ when Makoto entered his bedroom.

And replying to the greeting, Haruka added in a more serious tone, "Makoto, there's something I want to share with you." The smaller of the boys looked away and fidgeted when saying these words, and Makoto found it extremely cute. Haruka was nothing but cute now that Makoto stood significantly taller than him and had a more developed body. It made Makoto feel a little sorry for the Haruka, who he used to look up (in quite a literal sense0 to as an older brother, now being almost demoted into a younger brother, not quite the same as Ren, because height difference couldn't exactly make up for a mature personality.

"Alright, I'm all ears, Haru-chan," Makoto added his signature smile as he walked over to Haruka's side and plopped down on the space indicated by the tapping of Haruka's hand against the ocra-covered duvet. He saw the hint of hesitation on the smaller boy's face as his eyes strayed all over the room. And Makoto didn't mind that in the slightest, Haruka was more than welcome to take all the time he wanted; Makoto would patiently wait, even though he had homework and chores to complete. But this at least gave Makoto a hint on the nature of the conversation that Haruka wanted to have with him. If the other boy was so reluctant to express what he was feeling, he was probably about to say something very important to Makoto, or at least that what Makoto hoped for.

"You know how I told you souls of the dead become ghost because of misfortunate events leading up to their death?" it was a rhetorical question that Haruka asked, but Makoto nodded his head in response at the same. "Well, I died alone. Or rather, because I was alone."

A perplexed mien played on Makoto's face as Haruka had uttered those last words. He wasn't quite expecting the discussion to have took the turn that it did, Haruka was finally able to talk to Makoto about his death comfortably? Such a thing would have seemed strange during the first few months that they met, Haruka barely knew Makoto and Makoto would have been too young to talk about matters of death, but seven years had passed now. Makoto had grown and matured and Haruka was at such a stage that he could discuss such personal matters with more ease to his dear friend. Despite how touched Makoto was by the sentiment behind it all, he couldn't help but to be confused by the other's words. "What... What do you mean by that?"

Haruka shrugged a little, "Well, I guess I mean what I mean. I was always alone as a child..."

* * *

**Next chapter will be a flashback chapter and we get to find out what happened to Haruka in the past. I'm not sure how descriptive I'll be about Haruka's death, but I might need to move the rating up to M.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings: Character death, child neglect, suicide, swearing in A/N, unbeta'd**

* * *

The small boy saw very little of his mother at the age of ten, but it had been this way for as long as Haruka could remember, so he had grown accustomed to the absence over the years. It was hardly something a child around his age should have been able to do, however years of boredom and a spare kitchen had brought Haruka the gift of cooking and cleaning at such an age. And along with his gift came the scars from boiling pots and pans, knives and the lack of supervision from a responsible adult that all little children who liked cooking should have had from the dangers of the kitchen.

But Haruka had no such supervision, so his hands and arms were riddled said scars and burns, but at least he could make a meal that would please his mother whenever she cared enough to return home. Not that she ever remained at home anymore more than a few days for when she had no man with her to offer a place to stay for a month or two, away from the burdens of the child that she had bore with a man that had left her. Yes, Haruka and his studies obviously had to wait until Ms. Nanase had grown weary of her various flings with men all and sundry and decided to engage with her duties as a mother.

However, when those fated few days rolled by, Ms. Nanase would make up for the guilt that plagued her heart by treating her child to a taste of the outside world. This always consisted of shopping, as it became essential with how much Haruka had grown that new clothes had always been a necessity. The latter of the precious time Haruka spent with his mother was supposed to be spent however he liked, but a simple boy, who had remained inside closed doors for the majority of his childhood, thought very little of the fanciful ways a child could enjoy themselves in the outside world. So it often resulted in his mother taking him to places like theme parks and aquariums with the promise of a wonderful time and the two of them returning home exhausted, somewhat unsatisfied, but with some sort of souvenir in Haruka's hand without fail.

Haruka's life probably would have been less lonely if days like this were more common, maybe he would have even lived longer, but alas such days only occurred once in a blue moon. Before long, Ms. Nanase had abandoned her son once again for a man she scarcely knew, but was willing enough to live with in order to escape her duties as a mother. She had left workbooks and a collection of books for the homeschooled boy to study and complete before her next break, fresh groceries for Haruka to cook with and the new clothes bought from the recent shopping trip. Haruka's mother didn't even kiss the boy goodbye, as she locked the door for the next month or so.

And Haruka was perfectly fine with this routine. He had grown out of the stage of a hired caretaker to look after him and his mother's purse could no longer afford one, as the woman felt that she was spending enough with Haruka's living costs as it was. It seemed maintaining positive relationships with parents and other relatives she could shove her child onto was something Ms. Nanase didn't practice, unfortunate for the well-being of aforementioned child.

It was on such an occasion that Ms. Nanase's recent lover had invited her to go aboard with him to foreign lands. Believe it or not, the woman trembled slightly in hesitation as she packed away her passport (used only once before for a romantic three days in Paris) and the items of clothing needed for the weeklong trip. Despite the fact that Haruka had managed just fine before on trips where she had been away for three months, but that was when she was within the country. Food wasn't a problem, as Ms. Nanase had arranged a delivery service to bring Haruka groceries once a week, so the child was always well-fed. The neighbours were also ignorant of Haruka's existence. When they had met him once or twice, Haruka bore the guise of the woman's nephew, who was ironically in Ms. Nanase's care for a few days.

It was one of the rare instances that the woman actually cared for the well-being on her ten-year-old son, and it wrecked her mind with anxiety. It's wasn't particularly a problem for the younger one if social services had found him alone. They would have took the child and the burden of raising him off her hands, and the thought of that pleased Ms. Nanase very much. But, she knew that this wouldn't mean that she could live as freely as she pleased. If she was fortunate to have escaped without a prison sentence, the cost of hiring a lawyer would have destroyed her wallet. Besides, not many men saw appeal in a woman would already had a child, and much less appeal in one that had neglected said child. The absence of a male by her side meant a further dent in her purse for her expenditures, it may even result to her having to find a occupation yet again.

But would she sacrifice the opportunity of adventure aboard for the strange child that she scarcely cared for? The very concept of that seemed bizarre in the mind of Ms. Nanase, not a many women received such a wonderful chance, and it was the first time she had been invited to a foreign country. Besides, foreign men were a thing of wonder, or so she had heard. They were far more straightforward and honest than the men of Japan, even calling their ladies beautiful everyday and returning home from work with a bouquet in their hands. Oh, how Ms. Nanase longed to be pampered in such way! To treating like the absolute apple of their man's eye, wasn't that the dream of every woman? There was no way she could let go of such a man so easily, with her poor English and the lack tourists in the area, it would take another lifetime for her to find a man like that again.

With a touch more confidence in the decision she made, Ms. Nanase picked up the suitcase that she had bought especially for the trip and dragged it along the wooden floorboards of the corridor. She put the overly feminine case beside the shoe rack, ready for her departure. Cautiously, the woman walked over to her son, busy cooking by the stove, standing on a stool as the boy was too short to reach the frying pan on his own. Haruka's mother felt as if she should say something about her trip aboard to her child, but wouldn't that throw the boy into a state of panic? It was one thing for your mother to be away in Osaka for a month, but in Holland for even just a week, Ms. Nanase wouldn't blame the boy for his fear, although how Haruka felt about her trip was hardly of her concern.

"Mum," said Haruka as he saw his mother enter the kitchen space. She was well-dressed and as beautiful as ever, just like every other time she went on a date with one of those men that reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Her perfect hair and make-up wouldn't be so perfect when she returned home, mascara smudged and stray hairs falling from her bun, thoroughly burnt out from her adventures with older men and ready to allow her child to soothe away her worries. But Haruka hated it went his mother went on dates with such men, they always left her in mess, completely unworthy of her attention. Even though Haruka knew his mother didn't care for him, that didn't stop him from caring for her, "Won't you stay for dinner? I just finished cooking."

The pleading deep blue of Haruka's made it hard for Ms. Nanase to refuse her son's offer, and she grinned inwardly, thinking that charm the boy had must have certainly been from her genes. She joined Haruka at the dinner table, as the child was laying out the dishes. After all, her son was an exceptional cook for his age and she had heard that airplane food wasn't exactly pleasant, so the woman decided not to waste a good meal and settled down, joined by the little boy.

"Mum, I have been thinking," Haruka said in a thoughtful tone. It was strange for conversation to occur at the dinner table, as both of them had usually nothing to say to the other, and the meals were ate in an awkward silence that symbolised their poor relationship as mother and child. But today Haruka had something worth mentioning, which was quite strange for a child that spent all his days in the loneliness of the house. "I... I don't think you need to go on dates to find a dad for me. I think we are fine with just the two of us, I can cook and clean so you don't need to worry about that. All Mum has to do is-"

"Haru-kun. That's enough."

Ms. Nanase arose from the ground after she had put an end to her child's nonsensical blabbering for now. "I think I have had enough of dinner. You'll clean the plates like a good boy, won't you, Haru-kun?" the woman's voice grew cold, almost scolding, as addressed her child after the boy talked out of turn. It was the first time Haruka had said anything along the lines of this, it made Ms. Nanase wonder where this disobedience had came from, the child was always so well-behaved and not at all troublesome until this point. "Mama has to go away for a week. Don't go wandering outside, okay?"

The woman only glanced once shortly at her son's face, that look of dismay in those dark blue hues as the child's only wish had been crushed was almost enough for her cancel all her plans, cradle her Haruka in her arms and agree to everything that the boy uttered. She almost wanted to stay was Haruka forever, just like the boy had said, and be a good mother to him. She wanted to give Haruka more than just trips to amusement parks and souvenirs that held no meaning to either of them. She wanted to throw away everything and make Haruka the only male in her life for the rest of her life, and to love him the way that she should have since her child had been born.

But, Ms. Nanase knew that was impossible for a woman like her, to love her child the way that all mothers should, it wasn't something she was capable of doing. As much as she adored her child - much more so than she would allow herself to admit - she knew that she would never be the mother that Haruka wanted and deserved. With that new resolve, Ms. Nanase turned the other cheek to the silent pleads of her child and walked out of the house. A soft _click_ was heard as the door shut closed, followed by the twist of the house key in the lock, trapping Haruka inside for more than an eternity.

The boy just stared for a few minutes at the door that had forcefully separated him from the outside world, and most importantly, from the mother that he longed to be with so badly. Haruka's throat was dry as he struggled to make noise, but that didn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks in the silence of the room. They only made a sound when they hit the ground, small splashes against the wooden floorboards. But of course, no one heard, not even Haruka himself, as his mind was filled with nothing other than his own grieve and loneliness. The child may have scarcely noticed it before, but inside the realm of his own adobe, he was in complete isolation from contact with others.

The feeling of abandonment daunted him as Haruka collapsed to his knees in his own overwhelming solitude. He looked the empty space, was this all he was worth? This nothingness? Undeserving of the only thing he loved? She wasn't gone for long yet, only ten minutes at the most had passed since she walked out of the door to who knows where, but even though she had said she would return in a week, Haruka knew she would never come back to him forever. All of what the child had done so far, the cooking, cleaning and studying, it was complete waste, pointless and insignificant, now that he knew he would never have his mother. _What was there to live for_, Haruka thought, he was no longer kneeling, but laying on the entrance's floor, curled up in a protective ball. The tears grew noisier as soft whimpers escaped the boy's mouth, the wetness drenched the floorboard, and Haruka felt as if he could sleep in the puddle he had created.

* * *

Harsh sunshine greeted him the next morning as he arose from the salty mess he had fell asleep in, trembling knees could barely support the child as he walked over to the dinner table. The dinner he had made had spoilt overnight - it was no good to eat, no good for anything. Haruka could laugh at how much he suddenly had in common with the sad pile of dried rice and the sorrow-filled mackerel, but he was unable to do such a thing, so the chilling silence continued to hang over the house as he threw away the meal in the bin and piled the dishes by the sink. Before what had transpired last evening, Haruka would have never thought he'd see a trash can in a different light, but here he was, staring at the object and its rotting content, contemplating the meaning of his life.

A good few minutes passed before Haruka snapped out of his trance; somewhere in the back of his mind, something ticked like a bomb as he went into autopilot cleaning the plates, standing on his stool because he was too short. Deep blue hues glazed over, watching the soapy suds disappear with the warm water. The soap suds took away the grime from the plates away with it, and there was something fascinating about it all: the water, the soap and the grime. The pureness of the soap suds removed the grime from the plates, but as they did so, they become dirty themselves, and both the soap suds and their filth was washed away from the cleanliness of the sink by the water. Haruka certainly felt dirty, but not like the dirty plate, he was dirty like the soap suds. He was the kind of dirty that was no longer useful, he was the kind of dirty that needed to be washed away by the water.

And suddenly, it was all clear again in Haruka's mind. He knew what his life was about, he knew what his purpose was: the soap suds. And his mother was a plate, he needed to cleanse and purify her when she got dirty from the disgusting men that reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, and when he got dirty, he needed the water to wash him away. He needed it to wash him away down the drain, to a dark place, a dark and dirty place where dirty things like him belonged. Yes, that was where Haruka needed to go, not to the outside world, not to his mother, but away with the water.

So that's where Haruka decided to go, to a place where the water could wash him, so he could feel clean again. The small footsteps against the wooden floorboard make as little as possible sound, the boy walked through the house to the bathroom. Haruka forced the sliding door to the other room open with a gentle push, his bare feet stepped on the damp, cold tiles as he entered the bathroom. He stopped by the clothes hamper to undress, shivering a little as the heating was turned off, but that wouldn't matter once he was in the water. As the last piece of clothing left his body, Haruka turned the dial and allowed cool water to fill up the bathtub. The water filled at least half of the bathtub before he placed a foot in the tub and let the rest of his body follow.

Haruka laid there for as long as he felt clean again, it felt good just as the water surrounded his body. It was more than relaxing, watching droplets trickle down the side of the bathtub and sinking lower and lower under the running water. The boy shut his eyes and allowed himself to be lulled into a state of bliss, as his consciousness slipped away as his head slipped under the water. Fighting back the impulse to grasp of a breath of air, Haruka decided he didn't need air, not when he had water slowly filling his lungs as he chest sunk to the bottom of the bathtub. His fingers curled out of a fist and his limbs relaxed as he laid there still, the continuously flowing water encased him like a coffin.

Haruka had finally went to that dark place where he belonged, and the water had took him there.

* * *

**Hory shee****t, what have I just written. I swear I didn't plan Haruka to commit suicide, I didn't plan the detail I put into Ms. Nanase's perspective. It just happened and created this fucked up death, oh god. The rating is definitely changing into a M, it has to sooner or later (for *cough, cough* smut *cough, cough*) **

**Anyway, Happy New Year, guys. This is the weirdest New Year update, like, have a dead shota!Haruka to celebrate the end of last year. And on that note, you guys would be happy to know that my New Year's resolution is to finish writing my fanfics. So, I'm gonna do my best to stick to that. **


	4. Chapter 3-2

**Warnings: More suicide, shorter chapter length, hints of MakoHaru, unbeta'd**

* * *

"...and when I woke up again, my body had turned into this," Haruka looked down at the blueness of his arms as he continued to explain what had happened. "I didn't realise what I had done to myself before it was too late, but even now I still don't know if it was something I regret doing.

"My mother died soon after she saw my body laying in the bathtub, I watched her kill herself with sleeping pills, just like I had with the water. She did it because of me, it surprised me, but it was the most likely reason. I was surprised to even see her in tears beside the bathtub, holding my soaked, dead body in way that she had never held me before. I've never felt so loved, before that I was completely unaware of the true extent of how much she really cared about me, or rather that she cared at all. It made me almost... happy, in a way, but that was mainly because I hoped that she would become a ghost like me and we could finally be together for eternity. But, of course, that didn't really happen. I think I might have seen my mother's soul escape her body, it seemed to have disappeared into thin air after it did.

"That's when I regretted killing myself the most. Maybe if I held out for longer, both of us could be still be alive and happy together. It would take a while, but I could eventually convince her to stay with me, and I would always look after her. I'll continue to cooking and do the housework, and eventually get a job when I'm old enough. I can support her completely, so she would never have to rely on those men again, I would be all that she needs. But, of course, t-... that could never happen... now that we are both gone."

Makoto watch his friend tremble as the words left his mouth. Because of Haruka's usual stoic appearance, it almost seemed too surreal to watch be so shaken up by something, or it was at least something he had never seen before. He swore he could see the smaller boy's body almost weld itself in very inhuman ways as Haruka buried his head deeper and deeper into his chest. His translucent limbs seemed to offer little protection to the boy in Makoto's opinion, but Haruka only hugged his knees tighter and drew them in further as the soft sniffles shook his body and Makoto's heart in ways he never imagined possible. The urge to comfort another, yet simultaneously feel so utterly clueless as to how had never been so strong in Makoto.

The least Makoto felt that he could do was kneel down closer to his friend and throw his arms around the strange jumble that was Haruka. The other boy gasped softly before the sobbing came to an end and he let himself to slowly melt into the warmth of Makoto's arms as he laid there, untangled from the previous heap that he was in, yet still in a ball. That expression of melancholy still remained on Haruka's face, almost twice as much in eyes, but there was something blissful about that melancholy, like the pain had subsided ever so slightly.

It was quite enchanting to watch, the otherworldly child that laid there so comfortable in Makoto's arms. The steady flutter of those feather-like eyelashes, the tension slipping away in the furrowed eyebrows, the non-existent breathing and death heartbeat, and finally, the chilling touch. Those were all things that Makoto would associate with Haruka at this very moment in time, and there was something beautiful about every one of them. It was odd that Makoto had never used that word to describe Haruka before, but now it seemed so natural, like the only way his friend could be described so perfectly. Haruka was so dazzlingly beautiful even if he had fallen into a state of misery, the boy's sorrow just made him look more and more bewitching. Makoto's grip on Haruka subconsciously tightened until the taller boy's arms almost sliced into his friend's body.

"Makoto," Haruka's voice was scarcely a whisper, yet Makoto reacted with a small jump all the same. "Makoto, thank you for always being beside me. Before I died, I would have never imagined being friends with someone like you, I would have never imagined having a companion like you. Makoto, you are probably the only reason why I don't regret killing myself, if I had never done that I would have never met Makoto, and even if I did, we would have never been like the way we're now."

Haruka finishing talking as the teardrops fell on his forehead, they splashed gently against him, as if to release the love and affection they were carrying. The green hues were nearly blurry, as a faint puffy redness surrounded them. Despite the tears, Makoto still smiled his signature smile, and Haruka found himself smiling back in relief, relief that Makoto wasn't disgusted him, as he cradled him tenderly in his now stronger than a few years ago arms. He still wanted to be Haruka's friend, he still wanted to talk to a spend time Haruka, and that was a wonderful thing.

Makoto wiped the tears away from his eyes, almost embarrassed by his sudden emotional outbreak, but unbelievably happy it had elicited such a soulful expression from Haruka's face. "Haru-chan," his voice was scratching from crying earlier, so he coughed to clear his throat, "Haru-chan, I want to always be with you. I want to be beside you forever, okay? So don't ever forget that you are loved."

There were more words Makoto wanted to say, but it felt to soon and Makoto felt too uncertain whether such words should even be said, so the two of them just sat together in the blissful silence that washed over them.

* * *

**So this is kind of part two of Chapter 3, because I didn't want to pack too much into Chapter 3. And is it really appropriate to hint Makoto's feelings for Haruka right after his tragic death? I think not. School started for me, so yes, my updates are slow, I'm very sorry, but please bear with it! I would be lying if I said I was doing my very first to give you guys quicker updates, but I'm easily distracted and my lief has never been organised. I'm sorry you have to deal with my sloppiness and procrastination. On a happy(?) note, time for borderline pedophilic MakoHaru action from now on, woot woot.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Warnings: Unbeta'd, implied (and eventually) crossdressing**

* * *

When Makoto was fourteen, he realised he loved Haruka.

It was somewhere between Spring and Summer during Makoto's second year of middle school when his growing popularity with the girls in his year resulted in rejecting many of their offers to go out with them. Makoto himself had very little clue as to what caused the sudden emergence of his very own fan club (or that's at least what they called themselves), the never seen before pile of chocolates addressed to him on Valentine's Day and daily offers to walk home with him, which he politely declined. He was pretty certain that none of these girls actually loved him or even liked him enough, considering the fact that he barely talked to any of them prior to them asking him out. It wasn't that Makoto refused to acknowledge love at first sight, he just refused to believing in asking someone you scarcely knew personally on a date. Maybe that's why he felt little to no remorse whenever he turned them down, knowing that their feelings cannot possible by hurt for too long, no relationship was much better than a false one.

He never told Haruka about any of this, unsure what his friend would made of it or if he would even care at all. It just felt like something that shouldn't be shared, which Makoto absolutely hated. There was something disgusting about purposefully not telling Haruka things, like a strange sensation of nausea that emerged from the pit of your stomach and reached the back of your throat. If guilt had a taste, Makoto thought it would be not too dissimilar from stomach acid, but he guessed he would just have to get used to ignoring that acidic burn while addressing Haruka with his signature smile.

Makoto did have reasons for his unwillingness, it was hardly just him being difficult and embarrassed - although having such a thing as a fan club was embarrassing, considering he was only fourteen and quite ordinary in comparison to the pretty-boy heroes out of _shoujo_ manga. He was quite convinced that having a fan club for a fellow student was simply just a thing out of a _shoujo_ manga until he met Kisumi and his fan club. Kisumi is someone Makoto could blame for many things, including his hesitance to telling Haruka about his raising popularity (and even his raise in popularity itself). Haruka certainly didn't like Kisumi, even before he 'met' the strawberry-haired boy, Makoto could easily sense the dislike towards his new middle school friend as he told otherworldly boy about him for the first time.

It was almost uncomfortable to watch, Haruka's sudden distantness, the light furrowing of his eyebrows and defensive crossing of his arms - there was a passive-aggressive vibe to his repulse, it was cold, like a blizzard that they would be split apart and lost in. Haruka was completely different to how he reacted when Makoto first told him about Rin from elementary school. His arms were still crossed, eyebrows slightly furrowed, but there was something light-hearted and playful about how Haruka commented on how troublesome Rin must be. As weird as it was to say considering Haruka never actually met Rin, Haruka seemed almost fond of him, it made Makoto felt very sorry that Haruka couldn't met and get to know Rin.

But there was an ever-present scowl in the room as Haruka vanished into the dwindling light of the afternoon, the strawberry-haired boy barged into Makoto's room unannounced with snacks from Mrs. Tachibana on a tray. Makoto acted as jittery and awkward as a child who desperately needed to relieve their bladder yet haven't had the opportunity and lived in fear of it coming undone any second now. He could only relax after a good twenty minutes after there was no evidence of Kisumi seeing Haruka or suspecting anything. The afternoon bleed into the evening and Kisumi eventually left, to Haruka's delight. However, the otherworldly boy's mood reminded unchanged as he expressed his distaste to Makoto in the form of a silent treatment, despite both of them knowing that was little that could have been done about the strawberry-haired menace.

Makoto was unsure what Haruka disliked about Kisumi. In ways Kisumi did have a personality many could find annoying. He was more of clingy than loud, yet had an in-your-face demeanour and could be quite cumbersome to deal with all the same. He was quite like Rin in that respect, which was a funny coincidence, since the two of them used to attend the same elementary school. Both boys had at some point convinced him to join some extracurricular activity, which Makoto honestly didn't mind doing - in fact, he found it to be rather enjoyable and pleasant - besides returning home late to Haruka. That was probably another reason why Haruka hated Kisumi: Makoto joined the basketball team because of Kisumi and basketball practice lasted for an hour on most days, which meant Makoto would return home an hour later than usual. It was the same when Rin made Makoto join his relay team, but that was about swimming and Haruka strangely liked all things water-related, it seemed; Makoto doubted the otherworldly boy saw the point in basketball or even remotely had any interest for it.

Luckily, basketball practice was cancelled this week and likely the next due to their borderline-decrepit gymnasium in dire need of refurbishment. It seemed the school had managed to rise funds off of whatever unspecified means the school committee used to resolve the state of financial failure it was in. Makoto assumed the increase in cakes sales for 'charity' had some relevance to it, although he supposed he couldn't complain as the cakes were quite delicious and the word 'charity' seemed to evoke false sense of sympathy within him, even though the money raised would only ever be used to benefit the school, not some poor, starving children in third world countries.

A strange fantasy had wormed its way into the mind of Makoto Tachibana over the course of a few weeks - one that would leave him unbelievably guilty if he ever acted upon it - but he couldn't ignore it all the same. Said fantasy had first emerged somewhere within his shameful subconscious and manipulated its way through his conscious mind. The tantalisingly gorgeous image played on even the most innocent thoughts throughout his everyday routine, it was almost irritating. Feelings that he had held for Haruka, feelings that he would consider to be completely platonic and typical of such close friends, were being muddled and affected to the point of confusion. But that was the least of Makoto's worries, the image itself was perverted and sick, he felt unbelievably filthy for thinking such a thing about his otherworldly friend, let alone actually acting out the strange fantasy.

Something amusing happened when Haruka wore clothes or held onto inanimate objects. They would turn the same chlorinated water colour as the surface of Haruka and they would become translucent and shimmer in the same way, too. It was ridiculously endearing in the weirdest of ways, watching Haruka cuddle his favourite orca plushie as the black and white coat of the cuddly toy tingled with the same blue and almost became a part of Haruka's being. But the magic would come to an end when the otherworldly boy placed the orca back onto the bed, all traces of Haruka disappeared from the toy and it returned to its original pigmentation, to his utter disappointment. Somehow, if his plushie bared the bluish tinge of his beloved Haruka, Makoto would only come to love the stuffed animal all the more. Haruka didn't smell of anything, but Makoto assumed that what he felt was similar to how others felt when they embrace clothes with the scent of their loved ones.

The key components of his plan consisted of the nurse costume his sister bought that was all but too big for her six-year-old self. While he wasn't too sure if it would actually fit a ten-year-old, Haruka was a little shorter than what he considered to be average height and it was worth a shot. Okay, maybe the idea wasn't so devious as Makoto initially made it out to be, but it was still just as perverted all the same. It felt like such a struggle not to cave into that guilt and abort the plan all together - Makoto only clung to the hope that it might straighten out (no pun intended) his confused feelings.

After arriving home, earlier than what Haruka would expect, Makoto avoided the staircase to the upstairs and his room and walked straight on to the living room, or rather the playroom that the twins had rendered it to. He received strange looks from his mother as he rummaged through the twins' - who were thankfully asleep - toy box, and gently pulled out the light pink (not that the colour would matter, anyway) dress. Makoto stuttered and awkwardly mumbled his fabricated excuse that he needed the nurse costume for Art homework, when Mrs. Tachibana asked him what he was doing. It had been a while since he had last lied to his mother, which again made him question his plan. There would only be more to get Haruka into the costume, Makoto was nowhere near the a good liar, largely because he considered himself to be an honest and moral person, secondly because of his guilty-conscience didn't allow many opportunities for lies to slip by.

He sprinted off, almost excitedly, up the stairs with the nurse costume safely tucked under his arm. When he reached the door to his bedroom, he took a moment to compose his heavily beating heart and near erratic breathing. Haruka was awfully sensitive to the emotions of others for someone who had spent his life with such little social contact, and the last thing Makoto wanted to do was to startle the other boy - that could potentially give the whole game away.

Typical to his usual afterschool behaviour, Makoto opened the door and whispered a "_Tadaima_." The curtains were already half-drawn, allowing the side of the room that contained the desk and Makoto's unorganised and toppling stack of school books to well-lit and side with the bed and Haruka, sitting cross-legged on said bed with his signature neutral expression, was partially obscured by shadows and whatever dim light managed to travel through from the other side.

Instead of replying the '_welcome back_' that Makoto anticipated and almost hoped for, Haruka asked, "What is that you're holding?" A slender arm reached out to point at the very noticeable bundle of pink that made Makoto wish that he had enough common sense to have at least concealed the dress away from the immediate view of his otherworldly friend.

But, sadly, the taller boy's mind wasn't accustomed to functioning in such a devious manner, so he simply scratched his head with his unoccupied hand for a while before he gave his friend his weak and unsatisfactory response. "This is, well- It's something I thought we could play with," Haruka quizzically raised an eyebrow and did nothing more, his unwavering gaze was fixated on Makoto's awkward posture and questionable fidgeting, which only increased with the otherworldly boy's prolonged staring.

Finally, a mature sigh, uncharacteristic of a child his size, escaped Haruka's lips and his gaze relaxed but still didn't leave Makoto. A translucent blue hand patted an empty space on the bed beside him, as he motioned for Makoto to sit down next to him. After the taller boy had sat down, smiling as he always would, albeit a tad more nervous, Haruka took his chance to pose yet another question. "Makoto, you're acting weirdly. What actually is that thing and what do you really want to do with it?" Haruka leaned in a little closer, hoping to not exactly intimidate his friend - that was kind of difficult with their height difference - but to at least pressurise the other into giving him some proper answers.

Haruka's technique seemingly somewhat worked as Makoto caved into the tension. There was even more stuttering as Makoto tried to explain his intentions with a very focused- (and ridiculously cute) looking Haruka under his nose. "This is going to sound, well... I suppose it's a bit strange, I guess. But, hear me out, Haru. This," he paused to hold out the dress to Haruka, "is something I want you to wear for me. I-Is that okay?" Somewhere along his speech, a light blush had appeared on his cheeks, and it seemed to dwindle there for a while as Haruka examined the pink fabric with curiosity.

"Makoto, you realise this is a_ dress_, don't you? Why do you want me to wear a dress?" Haruka remarked, clearly puzzled. Makoto didn't normally ask Haruka to wear particular clothes, in fact he didn't normally ask Haruka to do anything, really. The asking had grown out of favour after their first two years of being acquainted with each other, nowadays Makoto would usually just suggest or imply, never ask. All of this was strange and quit unfamiliar to the otherworldly boy, he looked over to his friend, who still seemed hesitant and unwilling to talk. "What I mean to say is, I'll do it. But, why do you want me to wear it?"

Something lit up on Makoto's face after Haruka said he agreed to wear the nurse costume, although the realisation that he would have to make up some half-assed excuse to cover up his true intentions from the curious mind of Haruka. "Well, I guess it's something that's pretty hard to explain," even after he said those words, the otherworldly boy's gaze never faltered from Makoto's face, like he was with the answer his friend gave him. "I... I want to see what the dress would look like, can you just put the dress on and maybe it might be easier for me to explain."

That could have been a sigh that escaped Haruka's mouth, but Makoto didn't notice, nor did he care a great deal. The ridiculous grin that appeared on his face just wouldn't fade away.

* * *

**This took forever to post, I know. School and my own procrastination was basically the reason for this taking so long to post. Sorry about that.**


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